Real Men Carry Swords
by crematosis
Summary: Fayt and Albel are sparring, but Fayt can't concentrate because he has a crush on Albel. How does Albel handle it?


A/N: I know, it's stupid. The idea came from my pervy cousins and my pervy friends at lunch, and my own pervy mind. But for people who don't like talking about certain things or being anatomically correct, this is as close as you're going to get. Please note that sword is the word we use for male body parts. We have plenty of words for it, but this one seemed to work best for the context. And thoughts are in italics.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fayt and Albel. But I do own a sword. XD No...I own it…but it's not…well, never mind.

It was a rare moment that Albel let Fayt spar with him. Albel considered Fayt inferior and usually a waste of time to train upon. However, after Albel had been nearly killed by an attack of pneumonia and a vicious dragon, he had decided to train on Fayt, whom he considered weakest, before he went back to real battles.

Fayt had liked Albel for some time now, but he had always been afraid to tell Albel. Albel was not the type to love anybody, not even himself. So Fayt kept it a secret, although he was pretty sure Cliff knew considering the amused look he gave Fayt when he informed him that Albel wanted to train with him. Cliff was right; training with Albel was not a good idea. He just couldn't concentrate. It would have been funny if Albel wasn't yelling at him every few seconds about how useless he was.

"Fayt, do you want to train or not?" Albel growled after a dozen times when Fayt's mind had wandered.

"Yes," Fayt said quickly.

"Then I suggest you concentrate, worm," Albel muttered. "Get your head out of the clouds or space or wherever it is that your mind is and focus on the battle. If you don't pay attention in real battles, you're likely to get killed. Next time I won't yell at you to pay attention, I'm just going to hurt you to teach you a lesson, not enough to kill you, but enough that you will remember it for a long time." Albel smirked evilly.

"Alright," Fayt said, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Albel's body. _Okay, don't look at him, look at his sword. Oh, god, not helping at all._

Albel was pleased that Fayt was showing slightly more interest in the battle. He was no longer daydreaming, but he was standing rather stiffly with a horrified look on his face.

Albel chuckled softly. He was starting to be in a better mood. "I'm going to win," albel taunted Fayt.

"Why is that?" Fayt asked warily.

"Because I have a longer sword than you," Albel said cheerfully.

"Aaargh!" Fayt groaned. "Don't do that!"

Albel looked confused. "Why not? Isn't it customary to talk about your sword on your planet? Are you not proud of it?"

Fayt groaned and gritted his teeth. "No, Albel, I'm afraid not."

"Stupid maggots," Albel muttered darkly. "Fine, let's get back to training. I don't have all day to discuss with you how uncivilized your planet is."

Fayt grinned. "Sure thing, Albel." He dropped back into position.

Albel looked ready to attack and then he stood back up with an exasperated sigh. "You're holding your sword all wrong," he complained. "Let me show you."

"N-no, it's okay," Fayt said backing away nervously.. "I don't mind if I don't attack right."

"Well, I do," Albel growled. "I'm not going to get anything out of it unless you do it right."

"God!" Fayt exploded, stomping his feet. Albel looked startled. "I can't handle this!" Fayt muttered.

Albel sighed impatiently. "If you do not feel up to training with me, worm, then please put your sword back in its sheath."

"Jesus!" Fayt muttered. "Nel would never have this trouble."

Albel looked confused. "Nel doesn't have a sword."

"Albel, stop being so vulgar!" Fayt shouted.

Albel starred at Fayt. "I don't understand you sometimes. How am I being vulgar? All we are doing is talking about swords."

"Exactly!" Fayt whimpered.

Albel growled. "I don't know what people on your planet means when they say swords, but I will teach you the correct way right now. What you hold in your hand is a sword. A sword is nothing else and certainly nothing vulgar."

"Right," Fayt said sheepishly.

"Now, can we please go back to training?" Albel growled with a roll of his eyes.

"Alright," Fayt said softly. "I think I've got the ickies out of my system now."

"Good. Now, take out your sword and let's begin."

Fayt froze and started to twitch.

Albel stared at him and a horrified look slowly crept over his face. "You're not thinking what I think you are, are you?"

"Yup," Fayt said, blushing.

Albel clapped a hand to his forehead. "I don't know you, fool. The training's over."

"Sorry," Fayt said softly, still looking embarrassed. He quickly ran off.

Albel glanced down at his sword in disgust. He slowly took a few short swings with it and set it down. He perched on rock to contemplate things. "What I wouldn't give that Fayt was a female. No sword involved to complicate things. Ah well." Albel rose with a predatory smirk on his face. "I think it's time to find that maggot and show him what my real sword looks like."


End file.
